And woe for him whose wakeful soul,
With lone aspirings fill’d,
Would have lived o’er some immortal scroll,
While the sounds of earth were still’d!
And yet a deeper woe
For the watcher by the bed,
Where the fondly-loved in pain lay low,
In pain and sleepless dread!
For the mother, doom’d unseen to keep
By the dying babe, her place,